


A Little Problem

by cate-lynne (catelynne)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Weechesters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-07
Updated: 2015-05-07
Packaged: 2018-03-29 12:28:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3896329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catelynne/pseuds/cate-lynne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Sam get turned into kids again by a witch and Bobby gets stuck babysitting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Little Problem

 Dean and Sam were exhausted.  They had been chasing a witch across the state of Iowa for the past week, and had finally managed to gank the bitch in a rundown, abandoned hotel where she had been hiding.  She hadn’t left without a parting gift though.

Dean glanced over and checked on Sam where he was asleep in the passenger seat.  He was curled up in a tiny ball, his floppy hair hanging in his eyes, blanket pulled up to his chin.  His soft breathing was reassuring to Dean.  He had forgotten this, what it felt like to look at his brother and see no visible signs of their lives as hunter.  It was strange.  And heartbreaking.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean grumbled, smacking the steering wheel.  Of course it would be Sam who got his brain shoved into a little kid body, leaving Dean to clean up the mess.  He had to get Sam back to Bobby’s to see if there was a reversal process.

They were about ten miles away from Bobby’s when Dean felt it.  There was a tingling in his hands and feet.  As he watched, they started to shrink.  He could feel his clothes getting too big for him.  He hurried to pull the Impala over to the side of the road and out of sight of any passersby.  Almost as soon as he had, the transformation was complete. 

Dean didn’t move.  He sat with his small hands on the wide steering wheel, somewhat in shock.  How…?  He checked himself for any other changes.  It seemed like he was alright, even if he were in the body of an eight year old.  He was swimming in his own clothes.  He fumbled around in his pocket until he found his cellphone.  Bobby picked up after only two rings.

“What do you want, Dean?”

“Bobby, we need you to come get us.”

“Wait, who is this? Dean?”

“Bobby, come on, man.  Just, we’re at the turnoff past mile marker twenty.”

“Hold on a minute.  Who is this?  How did you get this phone?”

“Bobby, it’s me.”

“Last I checked, Dean was a grown man, not a kid.”

Wait, what?  That was when Dean realized his voice sounded like a kid’s.  He growled.  Or, tried to.

“That bitch.”

“Dean?”

“The witch turned us into kids, Bobby.  Me and Sam both.  It didn’t start for me until just now.  We’re close.  But I can’t drive, or the cops will pull over an eight-year-old.”

“Alright…calm down.”  Bobby sounded unsure still, but at least he was listening.

 

Twenty minutes later, Bobby pulled up behind them in a junker, usual plaid and trucker cap in place.  He walked slowly around the front of the Impala, peeking inside hesitantly.  What he saw made him smile.  A child-sized Dean sat wrapped in a plaid shirt, arms crossed defiantly.  Sam lay on the bench seat next to him, wrapped in a plaid shirt much bigger than Dean’s, sleeping.  It was adorable.

“Dean?”

Little Dean let out an exasperated sigh.  “Finally.  What took you so long?”

“Shut up, kid, and move over.”

Dean huffed and scooted closer to Sam.  Apparently, he hadn’t been expecting Sam to snuggle closer, wrap his arms tightly around his waist, and use Dean’s lap as a pillow.  He froze, staring down at Sam with a look on his face that made Bobby look away.  It was shocked, yes, but also sad and hurt.  Bobby wondered how long it had been since Sam had unconsciously displayed such trust and love. To anyone, really, but especially towards Dean.  Bobby didn’t say anything, just let Dean pet his brother’s hair in silence as they drove back to his house.

 

A few days later, they still hadn’t found a reversal spell.  Bobby was searching every book he owned, and some more he had to steal.  He threw himself into the search.  In all honestly, having a small Sam and Dean running around his house was driving him nuts.  Like yesterday, when he walked into the kitchen to see Dean with his feet up on the table, a beer in his hand.  It had been disturbing to see the eight year old boy sipping from the brown bottle and clicking through the porn on his laptop.  Bobby had rushed over and slammed the laptop shut and snatched away the alcohol in one swift movement.

“Hey!” Dean complained.

“ _Are you out of your mind?_ ”

“Dude, I’m an adult.”

“Not right now, you aren’t.”

“But-”

“No, buts.  Just…go to your room.”

“Bobby!”

“Now, Dean.”

Dean had grumbled, but had gone trudging off to his room anyway.

Or just a few hours ago when he had walked into the sitting room to see tiny four year old Sam alternating between eating a salad and doing crunches.  Bobby had stared at him for a full minute before shaking his head and walking away.  It wasn’t like the kid was doing anything wrong, really.  This whole situation was just messing with Bobby’s head.

He had always thought of the boys as his adoptive sons, and he had cherished the days when John had left the boys with him while he hunted.  Of course, at the same time, he hated the way John treated them, but he would keep his mouth shut if it meant he got to take care of them on the good days.  When they had been younger, like real children, not this witchy woowoo crap, they had looked up to him.  They had been vulnerable and scared, alone, and Bobby had felt such pride in the fact that he could give them what they needed.  But now…Bobby didn’t know how much longer he could handle baby Winchesters.  He had to find that spell.

 

A week later, Sam and Dean woke up back to their usual sizes.  Dean whooped and ran to get a beer, Sam chuckling as he followed at a slower pace.


End file.
